


i've become increasingly radicalized since the election

by nbs4



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: American History, Communism, Guilt, History, Leftism, Multi, Reincarnation, Revolution, Social Commentary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbs4/pseuds/nbs4
Summary: concept: "we brought these oppressive institutions into the world and we can sure as hell take them out"the "hamburrjeffmads" gang + poor sally are going to tear capitalism apart limb by evil limb





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea how long this is going to be & please, please tell me if i write anything problematic. i'm trying to reconcile my interest in communism with my interest in american history, and i know for a fact i'm going to botch a lot of things. i don't know nearly enough about either topic for me to do otherwise. if i fuck anything up too badly, please scream at me very hard until i change it

“You’re a  _ comrade _ , right?”

 

The young woman with the buzz cut and the cigar suddenly crossed her arms and smiled down at the innocent-looking college students clad in Soviet-style winter hats.

 

“Of course. You two are _ first-lifers _ , aren’t you?”

* * *

 

“James, I’m thinking of bringing the fight to them next month.”

 

James looked up at his general in shock.

 

“Not many people would so confidently talk about bringing the fight to the  _ United States Armed Forces,  _ you know.”   
  


“Yeah, I’m aware,” Alexander said, casually petting James’s head. “Isn’t that our fault again?”

* * *

“Uh...we’d like to sign up!”   
  
The woman grinned until she coughed. “Of course you do. Let me guess-- you’re sick of the burden of student loans, you’re sick of being expected to go into a money-making career, you want to be  _ remembered _ throughout all history, you want to, uh,” she paused to take another drag off of her cigar, “your favorite professor told you that capitalism was a bad thing and you want to be with the good guys. Alternatively, you want to sneak a peek at whatever  _ became  _ of those great Founding Fathers, our army prominently starring such famous capitalists as Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. Is that it?”

“I kept track. The correct answers were: 1, 2, and 4. Maybe 5.”

 

“Maybe 3,” the other student said.

 

The woman grinned and extended a hand. “Well, welcome aboard, comrades. I’m Sally Hemings and I’ll probably end up being your colonel, or something.” 

* * *

“Now, I’m not complaining, but why did you make me your top strategist again?”

 

Alexander turned back to James and shrugged. “Well, you don’t have enough military experience to be  _ generals  _ like me and Aaron, and you don’t have enough physical stamina to be  _ colonels _ like Thomas and Sal, so this is the best we could do. Plus, I guess you’re pretty smart. I need you around for the country-re-building part, and if I put you in any sort of combat role I think you’ll be killed by a strong breeze.”

 

“You’re pretty good at writing constitutions, and that’s an important revolutionary skill,” Aaron added from across the room.

* * *

Thomas looked up at the ceiling, the familiar and disgusting scent of tobacco floating in the air. The skylight illuminated his clean boots. He was looking forward to getting them dirty.

 

It begins with footsteps down the hallway outside, then the routine speech:

 

“We have a little, uh, presentation to show you. Yeah, I know it makes us sound like a small-town museum desperate for funding. But hey, a revolutions tend to have humble beginnings. What’s the cosmic difference between volunteer armies bolstered by  _ pamphlets _ and volunteer armies bolstered by  _ PowerPoints? _ ”

 

Thomas seized a little at the voice, even when muffled behind the closet door. It was a female voice he was much more accustomed to hearing while it was yelling, screaming at him with centuries-old pent-up rage and desperation. It was that sort of rage and desperation that made Sally a perfect comrade, Thomas thought. It was nice for him to hear her talk to recruits, though, because he liked hearing her, seeing her at ease. James would describe the phenomena to him at-length to him, and it was then that he wished most for a time machine.

* * *

“Anyways, Husband, I heard we have some new recruits coming in today.”

 

“Alex, I’ve told you not to call me that  _ repeatedly _ .”

 

Alex swallowed a piece of the apple he held in his hand. “What? It’s accurate.”

 

“It feels...dehumanizing. You’re reducing me to just one of my parts.”

  
Alex sighed contentedly. “I’ve been blessed with some wonderful comrades. The first time around, we’d all gather and talk about how committed we were to human rights. This time, even the slightest breach of said rights results in  _ action _ !”

* * *

 

" Please,  _ please _ don’t complain about the graphic design elements, I didn’t create the presentation, okay?”

 

Thomas absent-mindedly polished his rifle. He knew he would really have to kick himself into shape before long, but he had already been training for several months, and was beginning to feel confident in his abilities. 

At some point he fell asleep with his hands gently resting on his gun. The last thing he remembered hearing before losing consciousness was “this concludes the presentation, we’ll now introduce you to your generals.”

* * *

As soon as he heard the door open, Alexander jumped away from his husband, who had been caressing the cheek of for the past two or three minutes, and assumed an authoritative posture in front of the recruits.

“Welcome to the United States Communist Front, gentlemen. My name is Alexander Hamilton, and this is my husband, Aaron Burr.”

* * *

James shut his locker and sighed, letting his body go slack and resting all ninety pounds of himself on the row of metal.

 

For a moment, his body was numb and unmovable, but he quickly regained control. His head was pounding, sweat dripped down his back, a couple images of his worst sins flashed through his mind.

* * *

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking.” Alexander smirked. “The founder of American industrial capitalism? Leading a militant communist movement? Seeking to destroy his own intricate creation?”

  
The slaves at Montpelier, the slaves at Monticello, a young girl, no older than sixteen, pinned to a bed, and him standing in the middle of all of it, turning away, hundreds of years of oppression to follow, turning away, the descendants of their  _ property _ (the word tasted disgusting as he mouthed it) unable to make up for all the damage done, hundreds of years of chains, tied to the ankles of every woman, every person of color, every worker, and then he thinks of all of the laws he could’ve put into place, the civil war he could’ve prevented, the movements for various rights that would’ve have been necessary if he and that damn Jefferson had just  _ kept their promise to their country, _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case anybody's wondering how much of a joke this story is, it's somewhere between "almost entirely" and "crack prompt taken seriously," depending on my mood and depending on the scene. as always, suggestions/righteously angry "this is very problematic and you should delete immediately" commands are appreciated.

   “Oh, and you’re probably also wondering about my husband.”

* * *

 

The fluorescent lights in the locker room were dizzying, and he sunk to his knees, James wondered if there would ever be a chance to redeem himself.

* * *

   " Yes, I mean  _ that _ Aaron Burr.” Alexander opened his arms wide. “It’s truly a new era, comrades.”

As he said this, Aaron and Sally laughed on cue, and the recruits standing between them chuckled awkwardly. They were beginning to suspect that the movement was more of a regret-cult than anything else, but this thought did not strip any of their belief away from the cause.

* * *

 

Thomas awoke suddenly to a rapid knocking on the door.

He recognized the pattern.

“Christ, James, what’s wrong?”

No response. 

Thomas carefully placed his gun on a metal crate and jumped towards the door.

* * *

 

“Tough crowd, huh? Anyways, here’s the main strategy room. Doubling as an office. Tripling as a control center.” Alexander frowned. “We’re working out of an abandoned warehouse, what do you expect? What do we look like, the  _ United States _ ?”

* * *

James looked nearly exactly as Thomas had expected him to: weak, sweating, asthmatic, like he had just run a marathon, as though he were drowning in air.

“Do you have your inhaler?”

Thomas already knew what he was going to say. 

“Sal’s been holding on to them for me since middle school.”

* * *

Another round of laughter. Another round of awkward chuckling. Another round of silent  “is this even meant for the proletariat”s with a couple “how could he act so casually about being married to his murderer”s slipped in between.

* * *

But James didn’t say anything.

“James?”

“It’s...it’s not that. It’s not asthma.” James wiped his glistening forehead with his sleeve. “It’s my conscience acting up again.”

Thomas laughed. “Man, I hate that thing. It’s been bugging me  _ constantly _ for the last two hundred years.”

* * *

Throughout the introduction, Sally took a moment to reflect on her relationships with her two generals.

If she had to explain to a stranger what her dynamic was with Aaron and Alexander, the first thing she would say is that she had not  _ once  _ considered having sex for as long as she can remember, in both past lives and her current one. The most accurate term she had found as a teenager was  _ sex-repulsed _ , and she often wondered if it was due to her traumatic association with the act, or if it was an entirely independent part of her. She figured it was a mix of the two.

The second thing she would say is that she was almost immediately drawn to the pair because she had no personal, ancient baggage to try to ignore when she talked to them. There was obviously a certain amount of tension when she came across  _ anyone _ who was in power in her first, most painful lifetime, and she couldn’t lie to herself when it came to acknowledging that all four of her comrades were  _ willing participants _ in all her agony, but it was different when it wasn’t someone she had slept in the same house as. Still awful, she was  _ used _ to the awful, but not as awful as she was used to. 

The third thing she would say is that, in accordance with the whole theme of  _ redemption  _ that drove the whole movement, all four of her comrades were incredibly accommodating of her needs, her requirements, her  _ existence _ , and it disappointed her that this was such a refreshing change of pace, but it was, and she appreciated what  _ should  _ be considered  _ the bare minimum.  _ It  _ will _ be considered the bare minimum, she thought, watching the young recruits in front of her radiate excitement and hope. 

And finally, the fourth thing she would say, if this stranger hadn’t already interrupted her analysis, was that Alexander in particular had been very impressed by her initial application (which consisted of her junior year college paper on the need for a revolution). She will never forget what he told her:  _ So  _ _ these _ _ are the kinds of minds that this country lost for so, so long. _

__ The more Sally thought about it, the more she realized that she barely knew Aaron.

* * *

“How...how do you cope?”

Thomas shrugged. At first, he wanted to say “haven’t you needed to cope all along?” but he stopped himself and instead said 

“I join a communist revolution.”


End file.
